


How Grant got his Max back

by pollitt



Category: Happy Endings (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or: Of five-year plans and pencilled in penii)</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>”Lemme tell you how it all went down. It happened like this, and exactly like this--”</i>
</p><p>Or so Max would say when anyone asked for them whole, and no doubt a-<i>dore</i>-a-bull, story of how he and Grant got back together. How the Grax happened, if you will.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	How Grant got his Max back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pasdexcuses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasdexcuses/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, pasdexcuses! I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing this bit of happy ending fluff. (And I agree, Grant was absolutely adorable!)
> 
> Thank you to my betas for the thumbs up :)

_”Lemme tell you how it all went down. It happened like this, and exactly like this--”_

Or so Max would say when anyone asked for them whole, and no doubt a- _dore_ -a-bull, story of how he and Grant got back together. How the Grax happened, if you will.

(And yes, Grax, not Mant. Because Mant sounds like the name of a cheesy Saturday morning SyFy movie that is best viewed with a good cup of coffee and naked bacon time.)

_“Grant discovered something we all know to be true -- that underneath this denim and jersey, and some might say sloth, there is a treasure beyond estimation. And he realized that his life of architecture and world travel and saving the planet all while looking like he stepped out of an Abercrombie catalog even in sweatpants and a flannel was meaningless without me._

_And that, my friends, is when he knew he had to win me back._

_Considering I brought him the horse drawn carriage and roses for our second first date, well, he had to up his game._

_Let’s just say there might have been boom box holding and a Porsche 911, love poems spelled out in Vienna Beef sausages,_ and _the blessing of Dennis Farina--who stubbornly clings to his heterosexuality and told me to stop waiting, Grant’s the next best thing to him. And who was I to argue with Dennis Farina? Plus, Grant's not so bad a catch. I think I'll keep him around."_

And at that point Max would stop and all eyes would shift to over to Grant, would be smiling that dimple-producing, eye-sparkling smile and shaking his head maybe once, sometimes twice as if he were saying wordlessly that everything Max said were true and isn’t he the luckiest guy.

Which always makes the crowd _aww_ and maybe put their hands to their hearts, and Grant and Max just smile at each other like there’s no one else around. 

And if they’re close enough to touch, Grant might hook his finger around Max’s and squeeze. He might lean in and kiss Max’s most-likely scruffy cheek. 

Of course that isn’t the real true story. The real story is one with fewer Cameron Crowe and John Hughes references and words written in encased meats.

There was a real letter from Dennis Farina, though.

But here’s how it really happened. 

It didn’t take five years. It’s something closer to seventeen months since that day when Max and Grant had realized their plans jived on frittatas, Supermarket Sweep reenactments, and the possibility of a future together... but for a couple of small (possibly small, but kids grow so fast) things, and Grant had gone architecturing for a month and Grant had waved his bare ass at Rosalita’s.

What happened in the time between goodbye and hello again isn’t really the point. It’s life and into every life sometimes a little pepper spray and full body casts and speed-eating contests and sham and real weddings can and must occur. But what is important is that one day, in between an order of man-sized pizza after a disappointing (and dry) buffet as a Jeffs seat filler and a standing date as Mrs. Morgenstern’s date to whatever the latest comedy is at the second run show, a package arrived for Max. The postage said Toronto and Max almost tossed it aside, thinking that maybe Time Life Books was back in business or that he’d been calling the late night As Seen On TV deals in his sleep again, but something made him open it then and there instead of adding it to the stack of **open someday/not a bill**. 

Inside was a day planner. And honest-to-God, 2011-2016 leather-bound Franklin Covey Day Planner that still had the oil mark on the corner from the Italian beef Max had been eating when he first discovered Grant’s five-year plan. 

The notations were different than Max remembered. 

He remembered cities to visit, remembered career plans, and release dates for books and days to go to the gym or go drop off or pick up dry cleaning. Max remembered dates-- _their _dates, his and Grant’s--and notes that had been in pencil that started to be written over in pen...__

__And Max remembered drawing over some of those scarier--and he’ll say it, the stodgier--plans with penii while he was looking and looking and really _looking_ at what Grant was writing and he knew he should’ve been scared but... at first he had been and then he gradually wasn’t._ _

__Where there had been futures plans and everything written in pen because Grant had _known_ now were written over in red pen with things like “Miss Max” and “Think of Max” and “Plan how to get Max back.”_ _

__And on the day Max had been reading was “Show up at Max’s door.”_ _

__And the day after -- “Be with Max.”_ _

__And then... for days after, _months_ after, it was “What Max decides.”_ _

__Which was about when there had been a knock on the door and instead of his proposed date with his man-izza there was Grant, who had a Sausage King of Chicago t-shirt and some hot dogs (with poppy seed buns and nuclear-green relish and sports peppers. And no ketchup), the letter from Dennis Farina, and a confession that there are a lot of things he knows he wants in his life, and maybe there are things he thought he didn’t but could be up for discussion._ _

__But there was one thing he knew he wanted and that was Max._ _

__Max briefly considered leaving him hanging. To at least put up something of a front to draw out the tension and maybe make his imperfectly perfect Grant have to wait like he had had to wait for this moment (because Max Blum is a man with a soft center and damn right he’d thought about this moment and Grant’s return more times than he’d care to admit to anyone)... but the grease stain on the bag in Grant’s hand with the happy, tail-wagging wiener dog was making Max’s mouth water and Grant was there and kind of making Max’s knees weak._ _

__And who was he kidding?_ _

__“Your planner is devoid of some important design elements, but I think there might something to these plans of yours,” Max said, grabbing Grant’s collar and pulling him into a kiss that wouldn’t rank high on at the judges’ table but got the point across quite well._ _

__And that, that right there, was how it _really_ happened._ _


End file.
